Book Smarts
by Princess Pinky
Summary: When John Smith takes a gander into the university library in Pete's World, who ever could he meet?


**A/N:** As much as I want to, I cannot take credit for this brilliant pairing. It was actually thought up by **madis_hartte** who is writing the drabble series, _Melody Williams_. As such, my new head canon is pretty much Melody/10.5 in Pete's World now. However, I couldn't resist writing this little fic, because I just love the idea of this pairing so much! I asked for permission and it was granted. (So after this, go read **madis_hartte**'s drabble fic!)

_**Book Smarts**_

The smell of books: he loved it! Leather and dust and time. He often thought back to the vast Library he had amassed on the TARDIS. Or rather, the one The Doctor had amassed. He missed it. The library. And the TARDIS. Especially the TARDIS. She had always been his constant. No, she had always been The Doctor's constant. He was just a clone. In fact, he wasn't even a clone. He was a meta-crisis. Part Doctor, part Donna.

That was something Rose could never get her head around: not completely Doctor and half Donna. She always had to stop and compare; point it out to him when he did something that wasn't what _The Doctor_ would do. Or say. Or feel! Once she had even dared to call him _Almost The Doctor_. Because the truth was, he _wasn't_ The Doctor, and he never would be. He was John Smith. With one heart. No TARDIS. And borrowed memories.

"_Oghf._ Oh! I'm so sorry!" A pile of books splattered to the ground.

John immediately dropped to his knees and began to collect the tomes. "I'm the one who should be apologizing," he said as a young ginger knelt down beside him. "I wasn't paying attention, this was my fault."

"You did look a bit like you were daydreaming," she chuckled as she accepted a haphazard pile of books from him.

"John Smith, daydreamer, that's me!"

"Ah!" she laughed, extending her hand once they were both on their feet again. "Professor Melody Williams, geography teacher."

"Really?" he mused, reaching for her outstretched hand. "I was a teacher once. Weeell, twice. Weeell, _sort of_."

Melody quirked her brow. "Yeah? What made you decide to quit?"

He shrugged. "Not enough adventure."

Melody laughed. "Let me guess, you taught home economics?"

"Physics, actually. And history."

"History's _always_ exciting. Love a tomb!"

John's brow twitched. Something about the young woman niggled at him, but he couldn't press his finger to it. His memory – or rather, The Doctor's memory – was long and vast, but in all of his nine-hundred plus years, he couldn't recall ever having met a Melody Williams of the other universe. "A bit of an Indiana Jones then, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Indiana Jones," he repeated. "History teacher by day, archeologist superhero by night?"

Melody shook her head, squinting her eyes a bit. "'Fraid I haven't the faintest."

John closed his mouth, silently deciding that Indiana Jones likely didn't exist in this universe, which was a shame. "Weeell, it's an old movie," he casually brushed off. "Not that well known here. Sorry."

"Archaeologist superhero, you say?" Melody stood a bit straighter. "Maybe I'll have to look it up sometime. Sounds exciting! That's what I wanted to be when I was a girl: an archaeologist."

That feeling of déjà vu came creeping back, like a tiny flashing light in the back of his mind. "I point and laugh at archaeologists," he suddenly blurted out. It was completely inappropriate for the conversation, but he couldn't stop himself. As soon as he'd said it, he pressed his hand to his mouth apologetically. It wasn't as if the girl had actually done anything to him to warrant the rudeness, but now it was out in the open, and he couldn't take it back. "Do you know River Song by any chance?" he asked, thinly attempting to cover up his gaffe.

Melody's ginger brows furrowed, still adjusting from his first comment. "River Song?" she asked. "Who's River Song?"

"Apparently not. No one. Never mind, forget I asked."

"You're a strange one, Mr. Smith. Never met anyone like you before."

_And with the worlds to sealed off, you never will again_, he thought glumly. "You wouldn't be the first to say so." John studied her. Sometimes the universe liked to play tricks on him, reminding him of people or things long since lost to him. Unsurprisingly, this universe was the same way. What's more, it was completely and utterly mad: this girl – young woman – didn't look a thing like that mad, infuriating woman from The Library. Except, perhaps, for the ginger hair. But hers was brighter, more orangey-red than River's had been, and it was long with a touch of wave, but none of those tightly wound porcelain doll curls. And, besides, it wasn't impossible for two gingers to both like archaeology.

Suddenly he noticed the book tucked safely under her arm. "What's that?" Without waiting for permission, he snatched it from her grasp and pulled a pair of black rimmed glasses from the inner pocket of his blue jacket, not that he needed them, of course, but he liked the way they looked nevertheless. "'The Myths of Asgard,'" he read from the title. It was no mistake: this universe was most certainly laughing at him!

"It's a fairytale," Melody brushed off with a laugh. "I wrote my dissertation on historic myths. I was thinking about writing a follow up."

"On Asgard?"

"Maybe, maybe not. It was on the list of possibilities though."

John flipped open the book to the back cover and ran thumb across the corners of the pages as he let them fall back into place. His mind flashed back to all the time he'd spent companionless, after Donna, as he avoided the Ood summons; avoided his impending death. He'd seen her again, River Song, as alive as the day she'd barged through The Library doors and into tenth life. In fact, she'd left him her calling card like one might use a plane to write a proposal in the sky: using the protogalactic cloud that would eventually become a galaxy he'd name Allison, shaped into the message, _Hello Sweetie_, in none other than Gallifreyan. It shouldn't have impressed him, but it did.

The guilt, however, had been so overwhelming, so _crippling_, and she hadn't even a clue. So he tucked it away as he always did and pretended to know more about her than was true, because that's another thing he always did: he lied. And then he'd taken her on a series of adventures, including a picnic on Asgard. It had been nearly perfect, until she stole a branch – not just a leaf by an entire _branch_ – from the golden tree of Glasir, which set off the alarms in Valhalla, got them arrested, and nearly cost them their lives at the feet of Freya and Odin, who contrary to popular myth, were not actual gods, but had been the inspiration for the stories. After that, he'd decided no more. She would never drag him into another one of her insane plots. Time was _not_ the boss of him! And neither was she. Wife or not. Definitely _not_.

"Mr. Smith?"

John shuddered as Melody's voice pulled him from his reverie. "What? Yes! Sorry. So sorry. Right! Weeell…" He shoved her book back into her hands. "It was lovely meeting you, Melody Williams. Good luck with your research! Asgard, lovely place. I'm sure it'll be amazing. Absolutely fantastic! Well, I should be off, I've taken up enough of your time already-"

"Wait!" She grabbed him by his skinny arm and jerked him back to face her. Puckering her lips a bit, and wavering on the balls of her feet, she asked, "It's just about lunch time, do you have plans?"

"I – Miss Williams, it almost sounds as if you're asking me out."

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetie" she smirked. "Just texting and scones. What do you say, _Mr. Smith_?"

John wavered. "I – I think I'm quite a bit older than you," he said, stopping himself from flirting back with her the way he was itching to.

Melody scoffed. "What, I can't date an older man if I want to, I suppose? I'm a grown woman, if you hadn't noticed. You don't become a professor without having at least _some_ life experience." She frowned as she adjusted the books in her arms. "Is this some kind way of telling me you're married or something?"

John closed his eyes. "No."

"Good," she said quickly. "Because if you were and were just refusing to wear your ring, that would be a pretty callous of you. Now," she looked at her watch, "I have an hour. And all of time and space!" she grinned, rustling the books in her arms. "Where do you want to start?"

"Hmm…" John grinned and lifted his fingers, snapping them between their faces. "I know _just_ the place!" He extended his bent elbow, half expecting her to laugh at him, but instead she simply looped her arm around his.

"Alright then. _Allons-y!_"

"_Allons-y?"_ he echoed in surprise.

"It's French," she explained as they headed for the doors. "For 'let's go.'"

John allowed himself a full on smile, stretching his facial muscles the way he hadn't in years. For once, all thoughts of Rose Tyler and The Doctor and even River Song were forgotten. He'd finally met someone who didn't have any prior expectations of him and simply wanted to share John Smith's company; _his_ company. "Alright then!" he chirped. _"Let's go!"_


End file.
